Page 92 of Broken Bonds

“Do you have any news for me?” I ask right after entering. I don’t care much for pleasantries.

“Ethan is investigating the orphanage you grew up in, in light of the note and the information your mother gave us, but apparently the place closed down years ago, a fire destroyed almost everything.”

“Dammit,” I mumble under my breath. When we finally think that we’re getting somewhere, it becomes another dead end.

“Ethan is determined to get to the bottom of all this,” he says, looking me straight in the eye.

“I hope so, because it has been too much already.”

At night I’m unable to go to sleep in the hotel room that Josh has reserved for me, but neither can I lay down in the bed that they shared. That’s how fucked up my head is.

I spend my nights on the little sofa looking up at the ceiling and asking whoever is listening to me for another chance.

“Where are you, Hvezda?”

Time is an implacable enemy, the days pass quickly. In the blink of an eye four days have passed and we still have no leads on where to find Stella. She has vanished from the face of the Earth.

One morning, after a tough night, I’m about to hang Josh by the balls when my phone chimes with an incoming message.

Unknown: Get out of my house, leave me alone.

Forget about me, and I’ll do the same to you. Goodbye, Lionel.

I dial the phone number immediately, a young girl answers after a couple of rings, but the voice isn’t Stella’s.

“Who am I speaking to?” I ask her.

“Listen,” the girl replies, making noises like she’s chewing on something. “I don’t know who you are, the gal that was here last night gave me twenty to send a message. That’s all I have.”

Dammit.

“Where are you?” At least some information, some clue to continue our search.

“Birmingham.” Damn Alabama? Stella is taking this very seriously.

And she seems to be heading south.

Is she heading out to the coast? I know the ocean is calling to her at a very deep level. Would Florida be her destination?

“I want results,” I yell at Josh and Sanders.

“We know you’re frustrated, so are we. This is an issue with too many loose ends, and we are trying to understand it as much as we can.”

“I don’t give a shit about your frustration. Give me answers, damn it!”

Every hour that passes is agony, not only because I don’t know where she is but also because I know she’s hiding. Stella believes that I’m going to hurt her, when it’s just the opposite.

And the calendar continues its course, and we are stuck at the same point. In the meantime, I’ve attempted to work from here, it’s difficult when my mind is everywhere like in a sandstorm. Another strange thing happened. I was walking around town when a redhead gave me the nastiest look, maybe another conquest of my other self. Hell, what do I know? But I’m not in the mood to ask her either.

I’ve talked a lot with Felicia and Lorraine. I’ve learned something about keeping bees and now I help them to manage the hive.

At first, I had assumed it was a collection of little boxes made of old wood. To my surprise, the bee boxes are made of very good quality material, all painted white, and somehow she has managed to create a system to collect honey without disturbing the bees. They just move a metal lever to one side and the honey appears through a transparent plastic tube.

It’s awesome.

I was proud of her intelligence before and ready to help her, but now I’m committed to doing so. Also, what I told her about organizing the soap shop on the first floor of my building; I have already asked that they vacate the space, which is now used as a warehouse and have it ready for the renovations. But I don’t want to do it by myself. I want her to be the one to decide everything about the design. And she could move the hive to Los Angeles. I’ll take care of that too. I’ve been researching and the roof is a good option. We just have to think about how to feed the bees.

I haven’t spoken to my mother since our discussion. Neither of us has given ground, we remain firm, stubborn, and clinging to our ideals.

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